The filigree of the R3 West Trenton line was incised into the flesh of Bucks, Montgomery and Philadelphia County in the 1960s and the growing burbs have turned their back to it. Buildings have fewer windows on its side, houses have higher fences along its lines and the bodies of stray cats create jolly and morbid sprinkles to the aerial or otherwise aloof observer. There are exceptions, and today a moment of light: While being drug along this line in the big dumb iron and steel horse I’ve called Transit Mistress for three years I saw two kids of about 8 to 10 jumping on a trampoline giggling with no reason to do so. My heart was lifted for a moment at a spectacle of childish wonderment but knew this couldn’t be the end of this piece of Americana. Just then, one of the kids picked up, what I believe was a water ski, and swung wildly hitting the other kid in the head/neck.

But there was something about that hydropod blow, normally when you hit someone, the recipient object absorbs the blow nearly stopping the bludgeoning and causing the victim to lose balance and fall. In this case, the water ski held such momentum that not only did the ski not stop when hitting the child, but the victim didn’t fall so much as rotate about the axis of his belly button. I started laughing in humor and horror.  God bless America.